Turn Back When I See Where You Go
by singyourmelody
Summary: So it's him and her and a yellow taxi cab. Songfic to "I Want You Bad" by R5. Austin and Ally. Oneshot.


"Turn Back When I See Where You Go"

by: singyourmelody

Disclaimer: Don't own Austin & Ally characters. Title is from Bastille's "Oblivion." This is a songfic requested by Bubblegum913 using "I Want You Bad" by R5, which is a song I had never heard before (true confession time: I had never heard any R5 songs before, although now I have!). I tried to keep it within the perimeters of what the show is doing and with what the song is, which were new perimeters for me. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

* * *

So it's him and her and a yellow taxi cab.

It might be raining.

No, let's not go with that. Rain implies sadness.

This is not a sad story.

This is a confusing, frustrating, can't-breathe-can't-sleep-can't, _what-the-heck-am-I-doing_ story perhaps, but not a sad one.

It's silent.

But that can't be the soundtrack for the moment, can it? After all, they have always been about melodies and harmonies and the way music makes you feel.

The cabbie flips on the radio and "The Way You Look Tonight" pours out through the speakers.

This does nothing to drown out his thoughts.

And he would really, really like to drown out his thoughts.

Thoughts about her and her skin tight red dress and her yelling to him from the dance floor, "This is my song! Or was my song, in tenth grade. Come dance with me!"

He always hated that Icona Pop song that she loves so much. "I don't care" it screams out. Crashing cars and falling suitcases and the thing is, he really does care.

But she asked him to dance, and he's never been very good at not giving her what she wants, so.

He shakes his head as if he could shake the memory right out of his ears.

It doesn't work.

But let's jump out of his head for a moment.

She taps her fingers on the window in time with the song playing on the radio. Some version of a classic, probably Frank or Dean.

She had two of those delicious peach margaritas and is just feeling happy. Warm inside and happy. Her best friend is next to her. Her boyfriend is waiting at home. They have the careers they've always dreamt of. It's just . . . good.

She sighs.

The cab veers to the right and she loses a little bit of her balance, crashing into him, her hand on his.

"You okay?" he asks.

She laughs a little. "Mmhmm."

She moves to pull her hand back, but he holds on tighter and won't let her.

Looking up at him, she tilts her head sideways. They've been friends seemingly forever and she still doesn't understand him sometimes.

He seems to regain some of his rational thought though because he quickly drops her hand and stares out the window.

They tried this before.

Sixteen and stupid.

It didn't work.

She shakes her head and silently wonders what he's thinking about.

It was almost ten years ago, he reasons. And she's dating your friend, a voice in his head reminds him.

It sounds suspiciously like her.

He tries not to think too long about the fact that she is the voice in his head.

Let's be honest though. He's always been a little bit in love with her.

He rubs his eyes as he tries to process. The alcohol is not helping his judgment here and really, why here, why now? Why did this huge, life-changing, momentous realization have to hit him at this moment when he's exhausted from tour and not in the best place to make good decisions? He knows he needs to make good decisions.

He turns and looks at her and she smiles back at him and he kisses her without a second thought.

Until he has a second thought.

This is not good decision making.

This is not the story to tell grandkids years from now.

Because he's kissing her and it's amazing, of course, he knew it would be, but he's hurting three people here. One. Dylan, one of his best friends, her boyfriend, his producer, the guy he gets a beer with on Thursday and watches the game with on Sunday. Two. He's hurting her, of course. He's turning her into a cheater. He's actively changing her into something she would never want to be. And then three. There's himself. Is this who he wants to be? That guy who steals his friend's girl?

But the thing is, and this is very important, the thing is, she's sort of maybe, no, she is definitely kissing him back. Her tongue is in his mouth and her hands are tangling into his hair and she's pulling him closer and his hands start to wander everywhere, as if they have a mind of their own and she suddenly pulls back, her eyes wide.

"Oh my God. Dylan," she says and she sits back in her seat.

He had imagined this moment many times. It never ended with that look on her face.

She leans forward and tells the cabbie to go to her apartment, even though they are almost to his.

"I . . ." he starts, but she stops him.

"We . . ." she begins.

"Can't. I know."

"That wasn't what I was going to say," she says.

And here's where the story gets interesting. Here's where things fall apart. Or is into place? Guess it depends on who you ask.

They arrive at her apartment in silence and she tells them to wait for her before she quickly gets out.

So he sits and watches the meter tick up and up and up.

The cabbie sighs in annoyance and he understands. Because he feels like he might be dying waiting for her to come back. What is she doing anyway? It's not like this could work, right?

She gets back in the car about twenty minutes later and he realizes that she has a bag in her hand.

"Um. . ." he says, gesturing to her duffel.

She leans towards the cabbie and gives him the address for his apartment.

"But what about. . .?" he starts, pointing to the window of her shared apartment.

She slides closer to him and says, "I promise we will talk about this, but later, okay?"

"Dylan?"

She shakes her head and he's not entirely sure he wants to think about what that means.

But let's fast forward a bit.

The cabbie pulls up to his building and he pays him. They both get out and he begins up the stairs, but she stays on the sidewalk, staring up at the fifth floor- his apartment.

"You okay?"

She looks at him with wide eyes and he can tell she's panicking a bit.

"Um. . ."

"Hey, it's late. Let's just go upstairs and I'll make you a cup of- something. No pressure," he suggests and she nods.

He picks up her bag and she follows him up the stairs, into the elevator, through the door and into his foyer.

He spins around and looks at her. "Somehow that felt like a major accomplishment," he says as she lets out a nervous laugh and he does too.

They stand there for a moment, before he says, "Drink," and heads to the kitchen.

Scene change.

While he's in the kitchen, she takes a moment to survey his apartment.

It's very . . . sterile. He's hired a housekeeper, she notes, and all of the surfaces are shiny or metal or stark white and it's very modern, but she has a hard time envisioning this as a home. Has always had a hard time. Maybe it's because he's here so little, she reasons. Between touring and appearances, he's hardly ever in one place for very long. And that should scare her, because of all of the things that have happened tonight, the plot twists and turns, but for some reason, she's not scared. She's somehow prepared for all of this, almost as if she has been readying herself for this night since he walked into the Sonic Boom so many years ago.

He appears behind her.

"I might have tea? I'm not entirely sure what Louisa bought or where it is . . ." he says, shifting from foot to foot.

She follows him back into the kitchen and together they rummage through cupboards and don't speak as the kettle hums quietly in the background.

"Aha!" he says. "Looks like we have raspberry or English Breakfast on the menu tonight."

"English Breakfast? I guess it is morning," she says, looking up at the clock that proclaims 3:14 a.m.

"Right. Morning."

They fall into silence once again.

Finally she says, eyes trained on the black and white tiled floor, "Why tonight?"

He follows her eyeline and stares at the same spot. "Couldn't help it anymore."

She shakes her head. "But we've tried this. . ."

"I know."

"And it almost ruined everything."

"I know."

"And we were so young and inexperienced and it all fell apart and we just can't let that happen again."

His eyes snap up to hers then. "We can't?"

"No we can't. Neither of us could survive that," she says. She's being a bit melodramatic, she knows this, but it's also true.

His eyes are locked onto hers and he walks closer to her as she continues talking. "And I probably should have asked you this before I turned my life upside down and walked out on him and broke my lease, oh God, I broke my lease. The super is going to be so mad and, and . . ." she stops talking now, because his face is inches from hers, but she manages to get out "This is for real, right?"

"You have no idea how long I've waited," he whispers. "And now you're here."

"Don't break me, okay?" she says back.

"Don't break _me_," he says teasingly, and for a brief moment the tension is broken. She laughs and he grins at her and it almost feels how everything was before.

She kisses him then and it only takes a millisecond for him to respond, as if they had been doing this for years instead of just minutes.

She's just starting to lose herself in it and he's pressing her into the counter, his fingers moving at her hipbones and her hand over his heart, but it can't be that easy, can it?

No, easy is boring.

The kettle starts shrieking and they jump apart. She hurries over the stove and removes it from the burner and turns it off in record speed.

As he notices the ease with which she pours two cups of tea, adding milk and sugar, stirring them gently, he asks, "So, you're gonna live here now?"

She hands one to him. "Are you asking?"

"Are you saying yes?"

"Maybe."

"Then I'm asking," he says.

She smiles at him and it's so glorious that he decides that's his answer.

And it seems like this is the end.

Guy gets the girl. Girl is happy. Everything's perfect, right?

Maybe not entirely.

Let's fast forward a bit again.

He always leaves his dirty socks on the floor. This drives her crazy. She reminds him that she is not his mother as she scoops up his socks and throws them in the laundry. She sings way too loudly and way too early in the shower. This drives him crazy. Not even his pillow over his head can drown it out as he is oh so quick to remind her.

There are ex-boyfriends and obsessed fans to contend with, never mind their ever-changing and impossible-to-keep-track-of schedules.

They almost call the whole thing off twice, but she reminds him that they said they wouldn't let everything fall apart and they decide to stay up until they can sort it out. Neither of them sleeps at all those nights.

Those are the hard times.

But keep going. There are good times too.

Her cousin gets married and she's the maid of honor, so they travel to Seattle and have a mini-vacation. He watches her walk down the aisle and winks at her from the third row and they dance at the reception until her feet are blistered and he actually carries her back to their hotel room.

There's the Grammys. But those are every year and once you've won a few, the luster kind of wears off. They still get all dressed up and attend the after parties and stumble home a little tipsy and make out as if they are teenagers.

Jump ahead. Her graduate school graduation, the album release party for the first album he produces instead of performs, a trip to Europe that has no singing whatsoever, visiting their parents in Miami- all these things add up to their lives. Their life together.

And it's not an ending, he realizes as they get into a cab on the way to Madison Square Garden. She doesn't know where they are going, but he's rented out the whole space, because tonight's the night he's going to ask the question he should have asked long ago. The ring box feels heavy in his pocket and he's not sure if it's because of the size of the ring or if it's the weight of what he's about to do, but he realizes as he takes in the slightly stale scent of the cab and the squeaky plastic seats: this is where it all started. There's a soothing symmetry in coming full circle.

She's peering out the window and her fingers are tapping along to the song coming out of the speakers.

"You're seriously not going to tell me where we're going?" she asks.

And he just smiles.

It's not an ending. It's a beginning.

* * *

_Thanks for reading and reviewing. Love to all._


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